Pastel Protection Phenomena
by WordsAblaze
Summary: Phil's a pastel in a shady orphanage, Dan's a punk with a shady lifestyle. They find each other like opposite ends of a magnet and slowly but surely fall into a mutual shadiness they call love. *PREQUEL* to the oneshot 'Protective Punk', enjoy!
1. happy enough

_Guess who took almost a year to finally get round to writing more for this au, even if it is a backstory instead of a continuation... (almost forgot the word 'continuation' and called it a 'forward-story'... skills)_

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 **chapter 1: happy enough**

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Phil had nothing to complain about.

He really didn't.

Sure, he was on his own more often than not and his food was pretty much always stolen but that was okay because his little garden made up for everything.

Said little garden is where Phil finds himself waking up yet again. It wasn't his fault this time, they'd locked him in the greenhouse because they thought it would scare him but the joke's on them because being surrounded by plants is a small heaven for him and he's never slept better.

"Phil? What are you doing in there so early?" One of the older girls asks, dressed for her morning jog.

He shrugs. "I fell asleep."

"I can see that!" She grins at him before unlocking the door – which can only be opened from the outside – and ruffling his hair, the flower crown on his head almost falling off. "Go and get some breakfast."

"Thanks, uhm, Jade?"

He fixes his borderline-tattered flower crown, making sure it's not on the verge of falling off as she – now confirmed to indeed be Jade – nods. "Catch you later, plant boy."

Phil smiles at her and yawns, glancing around the small home he's made for himself before heading back to the house and slipping into the kitchen where he hopes nobody else has arrived yet. They haven't, thankfully. Not wanting to risk being seen by the older boys, even though they're not really that much older and shouldn't scare him as much as they do, he grabs two of the brioches from the drawer - one for breakfast now and one for later - then finds himself a bottle of water before leaving again.

The back garden is honestly more or less a gamble. It's less of a garden and more of an empty space nobody had claimed. It had obviously belonged to someone at some point because the little greenhouse couldn't have built itself but the overgrown grass and untamed weeds had made it clear it'd been abandoned, so the orphanage had claimed it. They'd claimed it but done nothing with it, using it as an excuse to get everyone outside and remove some chaos from inside the house.

Frankly, you had to either really love nature or really hate other people to venture into the garden. Luckily for him, Phil fell into both of those categories and he was the only one who did so it became an unspoken rule that the greenhouse was his and his alone. This unspoken rule also meant that he didn't have a bedroom for himself inside but it didn't bother him as he was outside most of the time and sleep doesn't exactly need a bedroom to take its toll anyway.

His makeshift garden is his safe haven and has been for a while. The other kids don't like him and none of them wants to get their hands dirty just to taunt him so gardening is out of the question, meaning that he can spend his days in peace as long as he stays inside the greenhouse.

So, as usual, he pulls out his almost-full scrapbook and starts drawing the closest plant to him while humming quietly. He loses track of time entirely, taking only one small break to eat the other brioche and occasionally water his plants. His bubble of concentration is only broken when something like solidified thunder falls onto the glass roof and scares the breath out of him.

It's rain.

He frowns, noting that the sky has darkened considerably, moving to get up but changing his mind as soon as the rain becomes heavier, too heavy for him to make it back to the house without being soaked to the bone. Sighing, he sits back down and closes his eyes, wrapping his faded, sky blue hoodie closer around himself smiling at the sound of rain striking the glass above him.

He's almost lulled to sleep when something crashes, someone swears, and something else falls against the greenhouse.

He squeezes his eyes shut and stays as still as possible, hoping that if he dies, his death will be quick. Dimly, he wonders if anyone will even notice he's gone, if they'll realise he's not around for them to tease, if they'll find his body before he's a pile of bones.

"I bloody hate the rain." somebody mutters darkly.

Phil's heart freezes when he realises he doesn't recognise the voice, which means there's someone new inside his greenhouse, there's a stranger in his garden, he's probably going to die, this is it, his whole life has led to being killed in a greenhouse and he's going to be killed before he's had a chance to watch his flowers blossom and his grave will be a garden inside a greenhouse and-

There's a high-pitched shriek.

He's ever heard of a murderer shrieking in a pitch high enough to be part of an opera performance before so Phil lets himself relax a little, opening his eyes as slowly as he can but still staying huddled in the corner. After a moment, his gaze focuses on the boy standing with a hand over his chest, clearly recovering from shock.

"You scared the life out of me! Do you have flowers on your head? Wait, what are you doing in here?" The boy asks, raising an eyebrow at Phil.

"It's called a flower crown," Phil says defensively, wanting to sound annoyed but the tremble in his voice making him sound scared instead. Not that he's not scared. But he doesn't need anyone else to know that, especially not a ridiculously charming anyone who's acting like he owns the world.

"And this is my garden," Phil continues as his voice strengthens, now sounding too strong to be his own and serving as a direct contrast to the fear in his heart, "so I think I should be the one asking you that question."

The boy blinks. He then laughs, letting his hand drop away from his heart before sitting down opposite Phil, cross-legged.

Phil stares at him, amazed at his nerve and nonchalant attitude to trespassing. He's dripping wet, clearly having run through the rain, and his hair is curling where it's been soaked. Those curls, Phil thinks, could give the ocean's waves a run for their money. He's just admiring the way droplets of rain are balanced on his curls when the boy clears his throat.

"So, you live here?"

Phil nods, tearing his gaze away from the brown locks to the darker, brown eyes.

"Do you have a name?"

"For what?" Phil asks, promptly going red as he realises his mistake. "I mean, um, yeah, I'm- I'm Phil."

"Pleasure to meet you, Phil." The boy still looks too amused for his own good. "I'm-"

Whatever his name is, it gets cut off by a clap of thunder. Both boys jump, Phil automatically hunching over to cover his ears. When the thunder stops and he can hear his own breathing again, Phil looks up to see the other boy leaning forwards, his head on his crossed legs and his arms curled around the back of his neck like a shield.

Hesitantly, Phil coughs. "Are you okay?"

The boy doesn't move.

Worried, Phil uncurls himself and inches forwards, reaching out an arm to touch the other boy in case he needs comforting. As soon as the tip of his finger touches the boy's arm, the boy jerks upwards, his arms flying up, accidentally hitting Phil in the process. Phil yelps, cradling his nose and hoping it hasn't broken again.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit you! Please say nothing is broken, I'm so sorry!" The boy blurts immediately.

"Nothing is broken," Phil says instantly, the words slightly muffled by his hand. When he's sure his statement is actually true, he removes his hand and sighs. "It's fine. I'm okay."

The boy bites his lip before sighing remorsefully. "I'm sorry, it was just a reflex and-"

"Don't worried- uh, don't worry about it. I'm guessing you don't like thunder?"

"Not really, no." The boy grins sheepishly. "I'm Dan, by the way. This is like those introduction things we had to do in primary school, isn't it? Hi, my name is Dan and I don't like thunder."

Phil laughs. "I'm Phil and I like plants."

"You also have a lopsided flower crown..." Dan's voice is hushed as his eyes focus on Phil's hair. As if on autopilot, he leans forward and gently pushes one side of the fabric up so that it's central again, his fingers lightly brushing Phil's forehead as he does so; Phil has to resist the urge to shiver at his touch.

There's a silence after that, the two of them listening to the incessant rain. Phil calms his heart down before debating whether or not to ask where Dan had come from, eventually saying, "If we ever did a performing act, we could call ourselves 'the thunderless plants'."

He half expects Dan to scowl and turn away from him like everybody else but he's pleasantly surprised when that doesn't happen. Instead, Dan smiles as if he appreciates Phil's comment, seeming to genuinely consider the idea.

"Maybe; that's a pretty witty stage name. But it's not like I can do anything anybody would want to watch."

Phil frowns. He wants to argue otherwise but he doesn't know Dan well enough so he just shrugs. "Neither can I so it's okay."

This time, their rapid descent into silence is due to a mutual lack of interest in small talk. Their silence only breaks once more when Dan gestures to the succulents on the floor. "What are they?"

"The succulents?" Phil frowns.

Dan nods. "I guess? I've never seen them before but they look pretty cool. Are they rare?"

Phil giggles. "They're not pokemon."

There's a moment where Phil regrets saying anything but Dan's knowing smirk causes his doubt to disappear and so he explains what he can remember about succulents and where they come from. By the time he's exhausted his knowledge, having stumbled over his sentences far too often for his liking, the rain has stopped and the sky has gone dark but Dan hasn't stopped staring at him in wonder, still giving Phil his undivided attention.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked for so long!" Phil bites his lip, guilt settling in his stomach at the thought of Dan having to walk home in the dark.

"It's okay; you're cute when you're explaining plant stuff."

Phil blushes as red as the flowers next to Dan. He appreciates the kindness more than he cares to admit, knowing he'd probably made a fool of himself. He hopes that the relative darkness means Dan can't tell he's blushing but he doesn't count on it, knowing firsthand that false hope is one of the most dangerous weapons to ever exist.

"Can I stay here for the night?" Dan asks as if he hadn't just caused Phil's heart to flip. "I'm rubbish at navigation even when I can see."

"Stay here?" Phil echoes, still reeling from the compliment. He then clears his throat and nods. "Uh yeah, sure, okay. As long as you go really early in the morning. I'm not allowed any visitors."

"I'm not some old visitor," Dan scoffs.

"Try explaining that to the boxing glove incarnates," Phil mumbles to himself.

Dan makes a face but either doesn't hear him or pretends not to hear him correctly, choosing to then send Phil a dazzling smile. "Don't worry, I'll be gone before you can get in trouble."

Nodding his gratitude, Phil leans back again, stretching his legs out since he finally feels comfortable enough to do so. Dan leans against the door and does the same, crossing one leg over the other and lazily cracking his knuckles.

"How did you get here?" Phil asks quietly.

Dan starts for a second, then relaxes once again. "I was out and it started to rain when I saw this roof so I climbed over the fence."

It's not really an explanation that properly satiates any kind of curiosity but it's enough for Phil, who's just happy his question had been answered at all. He says nothing as Dan slowly closes his eyes, his breathing becoming steadier and steadier as Phil watches. When he realises Dan is asleep, he blushes again, not wanting anyone to see him watching another boy sleep and find him creepy, not that anyone is around to see them.

He wraps his arms around his scrapbook so Dan can't steal it if he wakes up first - not that he expects someone as nice as Dan to steal anything - and curls up, shutting his eyes and trying his best to fall asleep.

It must work because, when he feels the sun on his eyelids, he feels rested. He also notices the lack of company he has and sighs, wondering if Dan was actually here or if he was, as they say, merely a figment of his imagination.

He settles on Dan being a figment of his imagination because the conversation he can remember having is too good to be true and he's never met anyone who can tolerate him talking about plants, or anything else really. As he sighs and shifts to get comfortable so he can go back to sleep, he spots an empty space that shouldn't exist.

One of his succulents is missing.

A figment of imagination or not, Dan asking about succulents and one of them going missing the morning after can't be a coincidence, can it?

"Hey, plant boy, get up!" Eric yells as he bangs on the greenhouse door, pulling Phil back into the moment.

He scrambles to his feet, surreptitiously sliding his scrapbook under the bench and stepping outside, slightly confused.

"Some of our stuff has been stolen, have you seen anyone suspicious?"

Oh.

Phil's not sure but he thinks his heart breaks a little. The first person he'd found who seemed genuinely nice hadn't really been escaping the rain, but distracting him to avoid admitting he was a thief?

"No," Phil replies anyway. Even if he had imagined another boy and Dan was just a thief, Phil won't be the one to sell him out. Especially not to Eric.

"Right, of course not. Useless as always..." Eric mutters, and that's the end of that conversation.

Phil just sighs and retreats to the safety of his corner. If there's been a robbery, everyone will be downstairs and the kitchen won't be empty so he can't get away with taking any food for breakfast. He just hopes the police don't show up because then they all have to act as if everything is perfectly normal and there's nothing as draining as that.

He shuts his eyes, trying not to cry at the thought of losing yet another potential friend. As he falls back into sleep and wraps his arms around himself to try and get warm, it's definitely harder than before to convince himself he's happy enough not to complain. He still does it though, feeling the coolness of the glass against his side and being thankful he'd been sheltered from the rain. Being alive and unhurt - and able to still feel the ghost of the kindest touch to ever exist hours after the incident itself - sometimes has to be sufficient for a reason to be happy enough, right?

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Please _leave a review! Let me know if you see mistakes or are interested in me continuing this! Thanks!_


	2. weak enough

_Many thanks to Bella and Jen for reviewing and making my day :) And, uh, this isn't a happy chapter, sorry..._

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 **chapter 2: weak enough**

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Phil stays in the garden for the whole morning and half of the afternoon.

At first, he doesn't move because he doesn't want to run into anyone who uses punches as a greeting, but, as the sun starts to climb up the sky, he finds he doesn't actually have enough energy to venture anywhere else. Nobody comes to look for him either. He doesn't expect them to, not anymore, but he wishes someone would let him know what's happening.

As it is, he has no idea what's happening at any point in time, simply drawing and using fallen leaves to create a mosaic instead. At one point, he has to restart because his mosaic looks suspiciously like a certain potential thief and he doesn't want to be reminded of him.

He practically squeaks when the dilapidated wooden fence at the back of the garden creaks.

Initially, nothing happens. Then, slowly, a hand appears in between two cracked panels of wood, followed by the rest of an arm, a shoulder, and a familiar face: Dan.

His hair is messy, his eyebrows are furrowed in exasperation and his tongue is sticking out almost accusingly but Phil can't help thinking he's never seen anyone so comforting in his life.

Then, not understanding why anyone who deceives people to steal plants would come back, Phil huffs and goes back to his mosaic, ignoring the yelp as Dan steps in the nettles, ignoring the greenhouse door opening, and ignoring Dan when he sits down opposite Phil again.

"Phil?"

It scares him. It shouldn't, Dan's voice is softer than a feather. He jumps anyway, his startled exhale scattering the petals he'd arranged and ruining his attempt at art.

"Phil? Are you okay?"

He shrugs. "I'm fine."

"Do you sleep in here or what?" Dan laughs.

Phil smiles but nods. "Yeah, I- I do, actually."

"Oh," Dan breathes, his laughter fading into a quiet sympathy. Phil can almost hear his pity.

"It's fine, I like it here," he says quickly, not wanting to be made fun of again but not knowing how to impress Dan.

Dan stays lost in his thoughts for so long, Phil almost looks at him but then chooses not to because he doesn't want to be pitied by a thief.

Eventually, Dan must decide to move on because there's a shuffling after which he asks, "Are you hurt?"

Phil shakes his head, even though he is. He's not physically hurt but he's hurt in the sense that the first true friend he'd thought he could make had turned out to be deceptive and had used him to get his own way. He did briefly wonder if there was another explanation but of course, there can't be because, as he never stops being reminded, he's not friend material and nobody would want him.

"Then why aren't you looking up?" Dan asks, sounding almost hurt.

He shrugs again. "It's safer this way."

He hears Dan make an odd noise and then the other boy is gone, on his feet, slamming the greenhouse door shut and climbing over the fence before Phil can regret saying anything. Not that he doesn't regret it... He does. He wishes he hadn't said that, he doesn't even know why he'd said that, he usually doesn't say anything at all to anybody.

"I'm sorry," Phil quietly offers to the space where Dan had been sat.

He can't figure out exactly why Dan had left but he knows it's definitely his fault. Dan must have been more offended than Phil thought he would be and, just like everyone else, he must have decided that Phil is more trouble than he's worth.

As if the universe feels bad for him and wants to give him a distraction, Jade suddenly appears in his peripheral vision, waving her hand in the air, clearly asking him to get back to the house. He stumbles to his feet, tripping over his laces, but gets to the house just as Jade turns and walks back inside so he follows her, slightly confused.

"We're having dinner with the officer," she tells him as they walk into the dining room.

That makes more sense. There's no reason for any of them to eat together unless it's to act like a perfect group. It's been so long since they've used the dining table that he doesn't even know where to sit, ending up next to Eric.

He stays quiet, ignoring the officer and focusing on his pasta because it's the first thing he's eaten all day and his hunger had been triggered as soon as he'd smelt the food. He doesn't even mind Eric's constant kicks or nudges, literally blanking out everything except the things that can satiate his stomach.

"Nice flower crown, kid."

Phil takes a minute to realise the officer had said something to him. He wants to argue that he's a teenager, not a kid, but he has a piece of pasta in his mouth and the attention of too many people for his liking so he just smiles gratefully and hopes for the best.

"He's only saying that because he pities how pathetic you are," Eric mutters to him once the attention is back on the older of the group, the ones who are old enough to file an official complaint.

They're all equally as uncomfortable by the time the officer finally decides he's made his judgement and leaves, promising to return sometime during the next week to update them on what's going to happen.

Phil slips back outside before anyone else can find him, retreating to the comfort of his garden, the closest thing he has to a home.

Not that it works.

He's falling asleep when they come. Eric and his four minions who Phil can't remember the names of because they're akin to a hive mind, doing exactly what Eric tells them to do.

"What, you think you can hide?" Eric scoffs, opening the greenhouse door and waking Phil up. "You're nothing."

He stirs groggily, blinking as someone kicks his shoulder and gritting his teeth when strong, stiff hands pull him up to his feet. Naturally, he wobbles and almost falls on whoever it is to the left of him.

"Ew, get off me!" they exclaim immediately as if Phil is a contagious disease.

Phil's barely paying attention to them, watching as Eric looks around, becoming increasingly more amused. Eventually, he picks out one of the younger roses, grinning as Phil winces when the stem snaps.

"I bet you're one of those losers who play that stupid petal game, right?" Eric asks, then picks a petal. "Let's change the rules, shall we?"

Phil dares to shake his head but the minion standing to his right scoffs, "What, you think that because one dumb officer complimented you, you're now some great person? Think again, weirdo."

"Yes, I kill your precious weeds and no, I just lock you in here again." Eric twirls the rose around his finger until the stem splits down the middle as he says that, making sure his intention is clear.

Phil's eyes widen in shock and he violently shakes his head but the two who are holding him back strengthen their grip, definitely enough to leave bruises once they let go.

He flinches every time Eric picks a petal and hands it to one of the two standing next to him, who rip it apart and throw it at Phil as if it's confetti.

"Please don't," Phil whispers when there's only a handful of petals left.

Eric laughs. "What's that? Please hurry up? With pleasure..."

He picks to at a time and Phil's heart drops. If he hadn't, the last petal would have been a 'no' but he's cheated and Phil knows what's going to happen.

"Please, stop, please-"

"And I guess it's a 'yes' then," Eric interrupts, dropping the last petal himself and completely ignoring Phil's crestfallen look.

There's a moment of silence before Eric laughs and picks up the whole pot of roses, winking at Phil before throwing it at his feet. As the pot shatters and the roses spill out of the soil and around his shoes, Phil gasps, straining to pick them up.

One of Eric's minions - the one obsessed with bodybuilding - steps on the roses, crushing them beyond salvation and then wrapping his arms around Phil's middle from behind, keeping Phil trapped as the two on either side of him let go and the four of them pick up different pots or the makeshift containers Phil has used.

He recoils as one of them rips apart every leaf from the succulents - the ones with sharp leaves that can pierce his skin - and throws each one at Phil's face, the sound of ceramic being broken ringing in his ears no matter how hard he tries to block it out.

He hates it, he hates that he's standing in the eye of the human hurricane that's destroying the only place he can call home. He wants it to stop because he doesn't know how much more he can see before he starts crying and he really doesn't want to cry in front of anyone else, especially not Eric.

"Stop, please," he all but begs, not even caring if they laugh at him for the desperation in his voice.

Again, he tries to get free, but the minion behind him isn't going to let go, much better built than Phil and determined to see him upset for some reason. The grip around his middle tightens in response to his meek attempts of getting free and he gasps, struggling to inhale properly.

When Eric picks up the sunflower Phil's only just managed to coax into blooming, he trashes again, wanting to save it, needing to save it. "No!"

Eric's grin reminds him of an alligator ready to snap its jaws and destroy whatever happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He slowly but surely picks the sunflower, essentially killing both it and Phil's heart. Instead of snapping the petals off individually, he crushes the whole thing in his hands until it's barely recognisable, then sprinkles it over Phil's head.

Phil shuts his eyes, trying his best not to cry as he feels the remnants of his hard work settle in his hair. He barely even notices when one of the other minions takes the flower crown from his head and tears it apart, letting it fall into the mess of compost and leaves that's now the floor.

He does, however, notice when someone punches him in the stomach because it hurts, making him gasp. As he gasps, something is shoved into his mouth and, too late, he realises it's a rose - the last of the roses - immediately spluttering and coughing at the taste of broken nature.

"Don't you ever start to think you're worth even being looked at, you hear me?" Eric hisses.

The muscular minion throws him forwards as he removes his arms and there's another, final punch to his arm that sends him crashing into the wall before he hears the five of them laugh smugly, victoriously. Soil falls like rain when they throw handfuls of it over him as they stamp on any flowers they'd missed the first time around. Finally, they leave, locking the door from the outside as they go so Phil's trapped in the battlefield of his destroyed oasis.

Phil whimpers and lets himself fall to his knees, coughing to get rid of the fragmented rose petals in his mouth. He feels useless, helpless, entirely pointless. He'd just stood there and watched his garden be torn apart in front of him; he really is weak enough to be hated.

He wants to say he's not crying but his vision is blurry and his cheeks are wet and his breath is coming in small gasps. It makes him feel weaker, weak enough to deserve this, but he can't stop himself no matter how hard he tries.

He can't breathe because this was all he had and now it's gone and it's all his fault, it's because he was too bold, and now he's suffering for his own stupidity. He can't open his eyes because then he can see the mess of his external heart all around him and he can't bear it. He can't even move because there's not even an inch of clean space where he's not reminded of what's just happened.

So he just curls around himself, his head falling onto his knees as he hunches forwards, and sobs quietly, knowing nobody cares enough to hear him, nobody wants to see someone as weak as him.

He thinks Dan must have left as he'd sensed how worthless Phil truly is and the theory is like a knife to his heart because he'd thought he could have an ally in this world but the ruined garden around him is evidence that he clearly can't ever have anything, never mind someone to call his friend.

It's darker than black outside by the time he stops shaking and calms his breathing down enough to stop sobbing so hard. He's still crying, he can feel the tears rolling over his dirt-smudged skin, but he can't help that because his heart is weeping. It starts to rain again and Phil hates it because, this time, it's not a reminder that the sky cares for and wants to hydrate the earth, but a reminder that anything he manages to get will be washed away and he'll always be left alone in the end.

Squeezing his eyes shut as he breathes deeply to try and avoid starting to son once more, he shifts so he's lying on the floor, as far back as he can possibly go, his head resting on the soil that once made him happy, gave him purpose, let him feel less than weak enough to fall asleep crying.

Focusing on the rain smashing into the glass above him just as the flower pots had been smashed onto the floor earlier, he sighs in defeat and gives in to the welcoming pull of slumber.

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 _Please review! Like it? Spot mistakes? Request for anything?_


	3. thankful enough

_Jen: thank you! Phil accepts your hug because who cares about a fourth wall? Bella: I'm sorry, I hope this chapter makes you a little happier!_

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 **chapter 3: thankful enough**

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There's nothing quite like waking up to the reminder that everything you love will ultimately be destroyed by those who see themselves as superior to you.

Phil groans the very second his eyes open, partly because he can feel the soil under his shirt and partly because his arms ache. He can't do anything about the former without using the effort he doesn't have so he chooses to twist and lie on his back, lifting his arms up to see that, sure enough, he has bruises from where Eric's minions had been holding him.

Sighing, he lets his arms fall back down and just looks at the roof, at the sky through the roof, at the clouds in the sky that look happier than freedom through the roof. He can hear gentle music playing somewhere so he eventually closes his eyes, losing himself in the melody of whatever's being played and imagining what it would be like to have something so beautiful written for him. It ends too soon and he's forced to sit up, to blink past the initial dizziness and remember where he is.

"I hate you," Phil mutters to Eric, even though Eric is probably still asleep and wouldn't listen to him even if he was awake.

Tears blossom in his eyes when he sees the torn petals and the ripped leaves strewn over the floor. They're beyond saving, killed for no worthy reason, but the succulents aren't. Some of them are, Phil decides as he chooses against trying to superglue the broken ones back together, but there are a few surviving leaves.

With a small but renewed determination, he finds the lid of the box they'd stepped on and cracked yesterday and clears a small patch of floor to place it on before scooping up handfuls of soil and carefully playing the remaining succulent leaves on top, hoping they can grow once more. It takes more out of him than he'd thought it would but he doesn't stop until he's searched for and found every single remaining succulent segment he can find, making sure they're all comfortable on their life-after-deathbed. Then and only then does he collapse again, exhausted and slightly demotivated by the number of flowers he'd further crushed by trying to salvage his home.

It escapes his notice that a whimper leaves his mouth when he ends up lying on his back again, a relentless sound that fades to a soft, guttural whine and carries on until he's back to sobbing, back to hating everything around him – except the plants, of course, he can't hate them because they're done nothing but die for him.

"Phil? Sh- Phil! Hey, are you okay?"

There's an unceremonious crashing noise but then the greenhouse lock is opening and there's a distinct smell of smoke as someone drops to their knees beside him.

Phil just shakes his head, feeling the tears roll sideways, too tired to even pretend he's fine, then tries to remember who this gentle voice belongs to and why they're talking to him. Brown eyes and curly hair emerge from his memories, tagged with that voice, and he wonders if he's dreaming but he's pretty sure even his dreams can't imagine anyone who cares for him at this point. After all, he's pretty sure he's read somewhere that you can't make up faces in your dreams.

"Phil? Can you hear me? This is going to be hella awkward if you're asleep."

Somehow, that makes him laugh. Once he laughs, Phil realises the dull sound of pain he'd been hearing had been his own. He cracks his eyes open again and looks up to see Dan nervously smiling down at him.

"Oh, thank Muse," Dan breathes, sitting back for a second before his tense expression comes back into view. "Think you can sit up?"

Phil nods and pulls himself onto his elbows, flinching when Dan steadies him but then offering a smile when the other boy's expression morphs into one of guilt and just accepting the help, eventually propping himself up on the wall of the greenhouse.

"I'm sorry," Phil says immediately. "For yesterday…"

Dan frowns for a second before shaking his head. "No, I- it wasn't you, don't worry. I just, uh, I didn't want you- I thought you were scared of me."

"I am scared of you," Phil replies, "but only because you stole part of my garden."

Dan's expression goes from horror to resignation to confusion to relief to guilt and then back to confusion again in under twenty seconds. "I… what?"

"I guess it doesn't really matter now, does it?" Phil asks bitterly, sighing.

"Do you mean the sucky lint?" Dan asks, his voice small and the words rushed as if he's not sure what he's saying.

Blinking, Phil tilts his head to the side and wonders if he'd misheard. "Succulent?"

After cursing under his breath, Dan goes slightly pink but nods. "Yeah, that. Uh, I didn't steal it, I borrowed it. I was going to ask but you looked way too cute when you were asleep so I was just hoping you wouldn't notice…" He fumbles with his jacket for a second before producing the succulent, pot and all, from his pocket, smiling apologetically.

Phil just stares at him. He shouldn't assume this is some elaborate metaphor but this boy, this thief, has just brought back a piece of his garden, a piece of his world, and Phil so desperately wants to take this as a sign that his heart can be rebuilt, replanted, regrown.

Realising that Dan is starting to get a little worried again, Phil takes the pot from him and gently places it next to the row of succulent survivors as if it's some sort of parental mascot for them. He lets his eyes start to close again second but he's snapped back into the present when Dan whistles.

"Phil, what exactly happened?"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Dan's asking, it wouldn't even take a toddler to work it out because there are very few things that can be asked by someone who's practically a stranger but also the closest thing you have to a friend and has just noticed that the place you've told them is your home is in ruins.

Phil shrugs. "They just went a bit further than usual this time."

He doesn't know what he'd expected from Dan but a look of absolute shock and disgust was not it. Dan's face is the epitome of rage as he glances to the house and then over the tiny bits of the garden Phil had managed to salvage earlier. His gaze goes back to Phil, searching his face as if it's full of answers before he frowns again, his undivided attention returning to Phil once again.

He reaches forward and gently brushes his fingers over Phil's cheek, wiping the last of the tears away, before retreating once again, apparently unaware that he'd stolen Phil's breath with the small gesture. "What happened to your face?"

Confused, Phil reaches up to touch his face in the same spot Dan had, wincing when he pokes one of the small cuts the succulent had unwillingly made when it'd been thrown at him. In response to Dan, he points to the succulent fragment he can see, hoping that's explanatory enough.

"Oh, damn. I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Dan looks confused for a second before saying, "Because you were hurt after I left and I could have been there to help you…"

Something inside of Phil warms up and he thinks it might be his heart because he ends up smiling happily at the thought of someone caring about him, wanting him to he safe and spared from pain. But then he remembers who it is that cares about him.

"What, so that you could steal more things?" Phil asks, folding his arms.

"Huh?" Dan looks genuinely confused but Phil isn't buying it, he's had enough of being gullible.

He scowls. "I know you were just using me to steal stuff. Like it's a coincidence that there was a burglary bad enough to call the police the very day we met."

There's a moment of silence before Dan splutters, "What? Phil, no! I didn't use you! I don't steal- I haven't stolen from you, I swear."

Phil pointedly points to the succulent.

"Okay, that was an exception! I just needed a reminder so I could- doesn't matter. But, honestly, I haven't stolen anything else from you." Dan's eyes are pleading with him as he throws his hands up in surrender, keeping them in the air as if that will prove something.

"Am I meant to just believe you?" Phil asks, raising an eyebrow as he subconsciously moves backwards, his sense of self-preservation telling him to get away before he gets hurt because that's just what it expects from people now.

"Yes! I promise... I swear on my life."

Phil's tempted to argue that Dan probably could have chosen something more realistic to swear on but he can practically see the sincerity radiating from Dan so he just nods, trying his best to believe it. It might help that, deep down, he wants to believe it.

"Then where did you go?" his voice is quiet because he can't make up his mind but they're in such close proximity that it doesn't go unheard.

"I have a curfew," Dan says without missing a beat so Phil figures he's either telling the truth or he's really good at lying. "I have to get back before sunrise and I didn't want to wake you so…"

There's still a massive part of Phil that can't believe he's lucky enough to have someone that's not a thief who cares for him but he figures that, if Dan had wanted to murder him, he'd had plenty of chances already so he might as well give this a go and hope for the best.

So he settles with saying: "Okay."

"Okay? What do you mean, okay?" Dan's eyebrows furrow but Phil just waits, smiling. Eventually, Dan grins back and his dimples make a quick cameo before he says, "Thank you. Hey, where did that crown go?"

"We're probably sitting on its remains," Phil replies bluntly, knowing he would have laughed at himself had he not been talking about his favourite and only accessory.

"Oh, sh- orry! It was kind of cute actually," Dan admits and Phil blushes before finally looking away from Dan, fiddling with the hem of his creased shirt because he doesn't know how to respond to anything so kind.

"Thanks," he mumbles after he's added another crease to his shirt.

"But that shirt is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Hey!" Phil crosses his arms again. "Just because it's not black doesn't mean it's ugly."

Dan laughs but doesn't seem convinced. "It is the most horrible thing I've ever seen and you can't convince me otherwise unless you manage to find and show me something that we can both agree looks worse."

Phil grins, loving a challenge that doesn't involve fighting. "I would but I don't have a mirror on me."

When the meaning of Phil's words sinks in, the affronted look on Dan's face is nothing less than priceless. In fact, it's so priceless that the broken garden around him seems acceptable if the two are paired together.

"You are pushing the limits, flower king." If Dan had meant to sound threatening, it doesn't work because he's still smiling widely with a slightly dazed appreciation dancing in his eyes.

"King?" Phil asks, his laughter replaced by a pleasant confusion.

"You have a crown, don't you?" Dan asks, then bites his lip before adding, "Well, not right now, but I'm sure you have another one you can wear, right?"

Phil giggles before shaking his head sadly. "I'd love to but no, I don't."

Now the expression on Dan's face looks akin to the expression of a personal assistant who'd just learned that their boss and role-model in life is secretly a serial killer who uses the hair of their previous victims to strangle their next victim. Simply put, he looks extremely distressed.

"You only had one?"

"Yeah, I found it in the attic," Phil admits, his face heating up in embarrassment.

Dan blinks. "What? Wait, they tore apart your only flower crown?"

Phil winces. "Yeah, can we not rub it in…?" Then, seeing the angry look on Dan's face, he backtracks. "Uh, we can totally rub it in if that's what you want, I'm sorry, please don't hurt the plants!"

"I'm not going to…" Dan trails off, looking annoyed but not at Phil. "I would never hurt you."

Smiling, Phil nods in gratitude, then lets his muscles relax and breathes for a minute. "Sorry. I just..."

Dan offers him a kind smile in return. "It's okay. I wasn't mad at you anyway."

But that implies he was mad at someone. It takes Phil a minute to realise that Dan was angry on behalf of him, not at him. He was mad at Eric and his minions for ruining the flower crown, not at Phil for having let the flower crown be destroyed. The realisation warms his heart and makes him smile again.

Apparently hungry for attention, Phil's stomach makes its discomfort known by loudly grumbling.

Dan looks bemused until something dawns on him. "Didn't you have breakfast?"

"We had a lot of pasta after you left yesterday..." Phil tells him, smiling sheepishly.

"That's not..." Dan looks like he's in pain and Phil can't figure out why; It's not like they have a symbiote relationship and one of their diets directly affects the other's health.

"I'll go grab some fish and chips, okay? That's the closest thing to here, don't go anywhere."

Dan stands up but Phil shakes his head. "It's okay, I was going to get something from the house later."

"The door was locked, how were you going to do that?" Dan asks softly, a gentle accusation laced into his tone.

Phil shrugs. "I've gone longer without food, it's fine."

"What? No..." Dan bites his lip, winces as he disturbs the piercing on his lower lip, and shakes his head. "No, I'm going to get you lunch and you're not going to argue. Understood?"

Slightly intimidated by his command, Phil nods silently.

"I'm sorry, I keep doing the scaring thing and-" Dan cuts himself off but forces a smile onto his face even though the two of them both know he just feels guilty for scaring Phil again.

"I'll, um, be waiting? It's not like I'm meant to be able to go anywhere."

Dan nods absently, then walks over to the door. "Do I have to lock you back in?"

He wants to say no, he really does, but Phil nods. "That's probably best."

So Dan does, he steps outside and locks the door, then apologies twice before giving Phil a small wave and running at the fence, tucking his knees in as he jumps over it. This is followed by a painfully dull thud - which is probably him landing not so well - but Phil is in awe, amazed at how jumping can look so fluid and impressive.

He sighs as he glances around, deciding that if Dan does come back, they're not going to eat whilst surrounded by a mess of compost and broken foliage.

Grudgingly, he moves his aching limbs and starts to push all the soil to one side, picking out the leaves and petals, which he piles up in a corner. His nails aren't that long but they're long enough to collect soil underneath and become black by the time he's halfway done. Not that it stops him. He carries on, thankful for something to do with his time, even when the sight of his crushed roses makes him cry again, until the mess is significantly more organised and there's enough space in the centre of the greenhouse for two people to sit without having to get dirty.

He's sweating and tired and seriously hungry by the time he's done so he just leans against the corner again and closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

Once he's recovered, he wonders how long that had taken him. The sun is almost ready to set so he's obviously lost track of time whilst cleaning, which means that Dan is either a little later than planned due to some unforeseen factors, food takes longer than he'd thought to order and collect, or he'd stupidly fallen for the lies of yet another charming person. His nose prickles with the threat of tears as he wonders whether he's just been abandoned yet again but, just as he's about to break down, there's a rustling at the back of the garden.

He jumps as a black shoe appears, slowly, carefully followed by the rest of a body, but manages to grin away his looming heartbreak when he sees Dan's bashful smile.

He's balancing two typical plastic takeaway boxes in his hands so opening the door takes him longer this time but he does it, sliding inside and grinning at Phil, whistling in admiration as he sees the clear space. Phil waits until Dan's put the food down before launching himself at the other boy, not even thinking about it. He wraps his arms around Dan's torso and almost sobs with relief when the other boy doesn't fade under Phil's touch.

"You came back," Phil breathes happily, thankfully.

Dan awkwardly pats his back before hesitantly letting his arms rest against Phil's back. "I try not to break the promises I make to adorable boys."

Phil blushes and pulls away, highly doubting that smelling of sweat and being covered in dirt can be called adorable.

"I'm so sorry it took so long! I, uh, there was a slight complication..." Dan sounds like he doesn't want to talk about it so Phil doesn't push it, content with him coming back at all.

He doesn't get a chance to ask anyway because his stomach rumbles and he doubles over, wincing, immediately steadied by Dan, who guides him down to a more comfortable sitting position.

"I'm sorry, I should have gotten back sooner, you haven't eaten all day," Dan mutters quickly, but then picks up one of the plastic boxes. "Here, it's fish and chips, as promised."

Phil grins as he opens the lid, the delicious scent of vinegar and salt filling the air within seconds.

"Thank you," Phil says softly and his voice might be small but his gratitude isn't. He'd never expected anyone to willingly come back to him, never mind be angry on his behalf and go out of the way to find him something to eat immediately upon learning he's hungry.

He's genuinely so thankful, he's never been so thankful in his life, he's thankful enough to just about kiss Dan in thanks- wait, what?

He shakes his head and shifts his attention back to Dan, who smiles at him and bites into a chip, gesturing for him to do the same, which he does, his stomach now thankful enough to stop rudely complaining and let him enjoy the food. Once he finishes the first chip and starts the second without missing a beat, Dan beams at him, almost proudly, and says, "You're so frickin welcome."

* * *

 ** _Happy Pride Month! I'm saying that at the end of every chapter I write in June, sorry not sorry! I mean there are literally 15 people who've clicked on this so it's not like i'm annoying the masses..._**

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 _Thanks for reading! Please review! Like it? Spot mistakes? Want to see something else?_


	4. addicted enough

_Bella, yay, you're welcome! Jenjo, i love you *bear hugs back* yeah, he needs a little sunshine in his life... thank you so much :) Guest, aw, thanks, I hope you have a lovely day too!_

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 **chapter four: addicted enough**

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"What's the green stuff?" Phil asks after he's finished his chips.

Dan had started eating his fish first, only after Phil had eaten half his chips and his stomach had quietened, so he now has only chips left but he also has a little tub of what looks like green mashed potatoes.

"They're mushy peas, do you want to try some?" Dan offers, dipping a chip in the paste and handing it to Phil with a warm smile on his face.

Phil shrugs, definitely wanting to try it but having had his food stolen enough times before to know that it doesn't feel nice. "I don't… I don't want to steal your food."

But Dan only smiles. "It's not really stealing if I let you, is it? And anyway, I can never eat all of it."

That blows Phil's mind. He can't imagine that there are people who can afford to throw away food just because they don't want to eat it when there are others, like him, who don't always have even half a meal to eat every day. And then he sees the glint in Dan's eyes that tells him Dan is lying – he's good at reading people and their lies by now – and it occurs to him that Dan had just been making an excuse so Phil doesn't feel as bad for eating his food.

"Thanks for lying," Phil whispers as he takes the chip, then bites into it and gasps at the strangely nice taste that floods his taste buds. It's much sweeter than he'd thought but there's an edge to it, something interesting that he knows he'll now always associate with Dan.

Dan chuckles. "I guess you like it, huh?"

Phil wants to say he loves it but he'd rather not emotionally force Dan to give up his food so he just shrugs a little. "It's alright. Fish are cuter though."

"No way! Peas are much cuter!" Dan argues, going with the sort of random statement instead of being weirded out, something that Phil really appreciates.

"They're squashed so badly they don't even look like peas anymore!"

He takes a moment but then Dan laughs and replies: "You're eating processed fish covered in bread or whatever, it's not like you can say anything."

Giggling, Phil throws his hands up in surrender. "Touché!"

A sort of nostalgic look settles in Dan's eyes and he smiles fondly. "You have such an addictive little giggle."

For a full ten seconds, Phil panics because nobody has ever told him that and he's not sure what he's meant to do about that. Somehow, he finds enough confidence to say: "I do not giggle!"

Dan raises an eyebrow into a lopsided arch. "Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure you just giggled…"

"You're definitely hearing things," Phil says, a smile playing on his lips as he stares into Dan's eyes.

Dan might say something in response but Phil stops paying attention, instead staring at the woodland that is Dan's eyes, the bright brown and the darker, richer, flecks of chocolate that seem to sparkle as he watches. It's mesmerising and Phil wonders why he's never appreciated brown so much before because Dan's eyes have quickly become his favourite colour to ever exist.

"You alright? Phil?" Dan asks, his voice gentle but piercing, cutting into Phil's musings.

"Who?"

Dan chuckles, shaking his head. "Are you not called Phil?"

"No, I'm called-"

Before he can finish making his sarcastic reply, Dan fumbles and drops his plastic takeaway container, making them both jump, then promptly laugh at each other. Phil's stomach flips because he hasn't laughed with anyone for a long time and it feels nice to just let go of his worries for a little while. It feels nice to let himself be happy, to forget about the people who just want to see him in misery, and just relax, alone but not alone enough to feel lonely.

"Phil? You alright?" Dan asks, making Phil realise that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts again. He can't help it, it's like a second nature to him, but he wishes he could control it so other people didn't get mad at him. Not that Dan was mad at him, but just in case he gets mad when it happens again...

"Yeah, thanks," he answers eventually, bringing himself back to the present.

"Hey, did you clean up while I was gone?" Dan asks, finally noticing the different piles of leaves.

Phil smiles. "A little. I didn't want you to make you eat in the middle of a mess."

The confusion in Dan's eyes morphs into appreciation and he grins at Phil, the corners of his eyes crinkling into crossroads and dimples appearing on his cheeks. He just stares at Phil for a long while before finally blinking to clear his watering eyes, then clearing his throat. "Sorry, you're just so damn cute."

Phil can't help thinking that the slight blush on Dan's cheeks suits him perfectly, contrasting with the black outfit he's sporting making him a lot less scary, a lot less like a thief. He doesn't comment on it though, because he can't be sure how Dan will react and he'd rather not gain himself any more bruises before the ones from yesterday heal properly. Layers of bruises make pretending a lot harder.

"What can I do?" Dan asks brightly, the two of them now having finished their meal.

"I... what?" Phil frowns, his eyebrows reaching for each other in the middle of his forehead.

Dan just smiles again. "What can I do to help? I can't let you sleep here... at least, not again. You deserve so much better."

"I don't," Phil says without missing a beat, but Dan doesn't seem to hear so he carries on talking: "Um, I guess you can help me to get rid of the leaves and stuff, we can throw them around the edge of the garden 'cause nobody else really comes out here."

"Nobody?" Dan echoes, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like this place is particularly interesting..."

"Phil!" Dan exclaims, making him jump, "You're here, how can it not be the most interesting place in the whole universe?"

Phil opens his mouth to explain the state of the garden but then realises Dan hadn't asked about the garden and blushes so hard he feels like he has a fever. He can't reply to that so he just smiles, biting his lip and trying not to look at Dan because, otherwise, he'll forget how to function again.

"I will literally fight anyone who disagrees with me!" Dan adds and, oddly enough, Phil totally believes him.

"Please don't," Phil manages. He's not sure why he says it, he can't decide if he doesn't want Dan to get hurt or if he just doesn't want to lose the only person he can maybe call a friend. It's selfish of him, he thinks, to hope for someone's safety not for them but for himself, and he suddenly hates himself again, wondering if Dan would still come back if he knew what Phil was thinking.

"I would." Dan's voice is quiet, soft, and somehow the scariest thing Phil has heard all day.

"Wha- What?"

Dan clears his throat, fiddling with his hands, "I don't know what you're thinking but I'd still come back, no matter what it was."

He'd said it out loud. Phil curses himself but pushes it aside for now because he can't decide if he'd just imagined Dan suggesting he'd come back no matter what. Instead of voicing this, however, he opens his mouth and closes it again, biting his tongue to avoid accidentally admitting anything else.

"Unless you were thinking of drinking my blood or something. I don't know what my blood type is but it's probably not your type of drink."

He looks ridiculously proud of himself for that pun and Phil bursts out laughing without meaning to, clapping a hand over his mouth as he does. Dan joins in and the two of them fall into hysteria, both lost in each other's eyes and laughter. They don't stop laughing for what feels like hours, until Phil's stomach hurts and Dan can barely breathe, his eyes watering. At some point, they'd stopped laughing at the pun and started laughing at their laughs, but neither of them mentions it as they recover, catching their breath.

"Don't worry, I'm not a vampire," Phil assures Dan, still smiling so hard his face hurts.

Dan places a hand over his heart and gasps dramatically. "Really? I would never have known, what with your sharp teeth and ivory skin..."

"Ivory? Alright, drama queen." Phil rolls his eyes, then panics at Dan's dumbfounded expression. "Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you or anything!"

The expression on Dan's face doesn't change for a whole thirty seconds, after which he full on beams. "You are just... full of surprises..."

"Do you like surprises?" Phil asks slowly, unsure of what Dan means and if he means it in a good way or not. He can't help worrying; surprises can be good or bad and, ironically, the way they're taken is always a surprise in itself.

There's a moment of silence in which Dan gives Phil an odd look and ponders the question but then he nods. "I think I like your surprises..."

"You think?" Phil repeats quietly.

Dan nods. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know anything for sure. Like, am I even really alive? Does humanity actually exist? I don't know. But I'm as sure as I can be that the surprises you have are great."

Phil blinks. He doesn't think he's ever met anyone who's made casual existentialism so simple and easy. Then again, he's never made anyone who's made anything simple and easy so maybe it's just him that's behind on the trends in existentialism and the like. Either way, Dan fascinates him and he really hopes he doesn't have to lose him too.

"What do you want for lunch?" Dan asks, apparently randomly. Seeing Phil's extreme confusion, he reiterates: "Tomorrow. What do you want for lunch tomorrow?"

"I don't..." Phil shakes his head, understanding the question but not really following Dan's train of thought.

Chuckling a little, Dan shakes his head. "It's not that hard to get, is it? What do you want to eat at this time, tomorrow? Pizza? 'Fish 'n' chips' loses its charm if you have it two days in a row."

"You want to have lunch again tomorrow?" Phil asks, still slightly behind, having expected many things but not this. Definitely not this.

His eyes brightening, Dan nods. "Of course. I'm addicted to your giggle."

As if on cue, Phil giggles. He then claps a hand over his mouth again but his eyes are smiling when he looks to Dan with a look of gratitude. As soon as he's stopped giggling, he lets his hand fall and beams. "Pizza can be your payment then."

"Oh, what, now you're a drug dealer?" Dan asks, scoffing, but there's a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Only for you, Dan." Phil winks. Or rather, he tries to wink. He ends up just blinking, making both Dan and himself laugh.

Thankfully, Dan seems to understand that he's embarrassed and emits what sounds like an audibly lopsided cooing sound, putting both hands over his heart and leaning forwards. "Damn, Phil, I feel special."

Without thinking about anything and acting purely on instinct, Phil replies, "You are."

He's not lying when he says so. To him, Dan is special. There aren't many other people who have held a conversation with him and nobody, nobody, has ever actively tried to do something for him instead of just pitying him and leaving. Nobody had ever complimented him or his garden and nobody had felt anger or sadness on his behalf before. He can't think of one person who had found shelter in his company and there's never been anyone who's sat in the middle of a mess just to spend time with him, only to then offer to help him clean the mess. Dan's different to everyone else and that makes him special, special to Phil.

"What the heck, Phil," Dan mutters, "you can't just say stuff like that, I have a reputation to maintain."

Phil just cocks his head, confused.

Dan chuckles. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. I guess it's my fault that I find you so cute... No wait, it is your fault. How dare you be so adorable?"

Now Phil laughs, laughs at Dan's apparent inner conflict and at the way Dan's scowling and blushing at the same time. It occurs to him that Dan had compared him to a drug - or at least, his giggle - but, really, it's Phil who's utterly addicted to Dan and everything about him.

Dan's very presence is intoxicating and Phil can't get enough. A part of him hates the idea of liking Dan so much so quickly, because, in his experience, people don't tend to stick around and, if Dan leaves, it'll hurt so much more than anything else has ever hurt. But another part of him loves being able to love, loves being able to be loved, and he doesn't want to let go of that just yet, if ever. He's more than a little addicted to Dan and he doesn't want to get over it.

"Sorry," he says in the end, literally unable to express anything else.

The grin on Dan's face suggests that it's alright and that Phil's belated, half-hearted apology says more than Phil thinks it does. The two of them then catch themselves staring at each other, lost in one another's eyes, and awkwardly cough, not having realised they'd stopped focusing on the rest of the world.

"You should, um, go," Phil says.

"What?" Dan asks, looking almost hurt.

Immediately, Phil shakes his head, slightly worried, "No, no, I just mean that I don't want you to waste your day- uh, your afternoon with me."

Halfway between a frown and a smile, Dan shakes his head. "Nope. You're a cute little drug, remember? Why would I want to do anything other than stay with you for as long as possible?"

Phil smiles to himself. Not wanting to just let himself blush and lose the ability to string words together again, he forces himself to smirk. "Then I hope you're ready for some manual labour."

"Right, yes, the leaves! Shall we?" Dan stands up without waiting for an answer, holding his hand out for Phil to take. It's honestly one of the best sights Phil has seen in a while, and he's seen some of the most beautiful flowers known to man so that's saying something.

"Shall we, what? Dance?"

It's not even a second later when Dan doubles over laughing, then exhales heavily, clumsily catching his breath, and shrugs. "Since when does dancing consist of throwing leaves around?"

Phil chuckles, taking Dan's hand and pulling himself up. Once he's on his feet and has let go of Dan's hand because the skin contact makes him dizzy with a warmth he can't name, he grins. "Props are a thing, right?"

"Right." Dan agrees, nodding pretty seriously. Which lasts about five seconds before he dissolves into giggles again like someone who's just inhaled a dose of laughing gas, something that anyone else would probably have to do before they could tolerate Phil for so long.

Either way, Phil is addicted enough to Dan to agree in some way or another, because that's an accurate summary of what everything is to him at the moment: just right.

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 _ **Guys, one of my best friends is in a really difficult and painful situation so I've opened fanfic commissions! (detailed post on my tumblr) If you guys want me to write anything you feel like reading, let me know!**_

 _Happy pride month, I hope y'all are having a lovely month :)_

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 _Thanks for reading! Please review: Like it? Spot mistakes? Any suggestions?_


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